Incubus
by ILoveJorja
Summary: A dark story in which Sara and Grissom have terrifying nightmares. A conversation with Catherine helps them both tell the truth.


**Warning**: This story is very dark. Also very different from anything I've ever written before. It's long like most of the others, and _of course_ GSR. So if you've read my other stories (thank you) be prepared for a major change of pace. OOC, A/U. Rated a firm M.

**Author's note**: Incubi and succubi were first mentioned by St. Augustine, a very odd duck. Go read about him if you don't believe me. They were used as a basis for witchcraft trials in the Middle Ages and later. A distant ancestor of mine was crushed to death for refusing to testify against supposed witches in Salem, so maybe I was partly inspired by that. I have no personal experience with either incubi or succubi and I hope I never do.

**Incubus**

incubus: Latin _incubo_ nightmare, from _incubare_, to lie on. 1. An evil spirit supposed to descend upon sleeping people and especially to have sexual intercourse with sleeping women. 2. An oppressive nightmare; a person or thing which oppresses or troubles like a nightmare.

_Oxford Dictionary of Foreign Words and Phrases_

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**CHAPTER ONE: INCUBUS**

Sara was having a tough time focusing, at least when awake. Her dreams seemed much more vivid than her day to day life. And these weren't her ordinary dreams. Not the troubling nightmares of victims or remembered images of her own traumas, nor the usual pleasant and pleasurable fantasies of being with Gil. No, these were much different and much more disturbing.

In one such dream, Sara was in a private place, outdoors but not exposed to prying eyes. It was dark, with looming darker shapes like oppressive trees all around her. The only light was from a waxing moon, partially obscured by wispy clouds.

Grissom was there, before her, and she was captivated by his eyes. His eyes were stern; full of desire and want, but as icy cold and grey-blue as an Arctic sea. Grissom was lit with a silvery light and the grey and white in his hair and beard seemed to glow. He stood before her, transfixing her with that expression so completely that she seemed rooted to the earth at her feet.

And as their eyes were joined, he leaned forward and kissed her, never closing his eyes. She surrendered to their first kiss as he approached, but as their lips met she felt very strange sensations. Grissom's lips were bitter cold and stiff as rubber, not at all as she had imagined. And he covered her mouth so completely. Their lips seemed glued together and she felt helpless to release herself from him.

Grissom inhaled and the suction of his breath emptied her lungs. The air left her swiftly and completely and still the suction continued. Her body seemed to empty too, her limbs drawing up into long limp flaps of skin. Sara's very bones seemed to shrink into nothingness. Her body shrank like a balloon deflating, until she was a tiny, grotesque imitation of herself. The terror of suffocation was overwhelming.

Sara awoke with great gasping breaths that sounded like screams. She bolted from the bed but could not seem to find an escape from that dream. She ran frantically to the bathroom, but it was too cold; to the outdoors, but it felt like he was in the darkness, lurking; to her spare bedroom and computer desk, but it was too empty and silent. Sara tried to sit in the living room and watch television but the flickering light seemed to stimulate the memory of her nightmare.

So she turned on all the lights in every room and made cup after cup of tea. She turned on the radio, loud, and that seemed to help. Curled up in a ball, her arms around her knees, she sat and waited for daylight.

As soon as it was light, she was able to eat a little and shower and dress and pretend to feel normal. Sara went through her mail and paid her bills, did her dishes and changed her sheets and washed her clothes and wandered around the house until it was time to go to work, early but not too early. The normalcy of the lab and the sight of familiar, unthreatening faces eased her mind.

She was so tired from her abbreviated sleep that after her shift she slept peacefully.

One good night's rest was immediately followed by a short tormented one.

Grissom's large body loomed over her as she lay on her back, vulnerable and welcoming. His bulk swelled to monstrous size and Sara's fear returned. Grissom thrust his prick inside her and it ripped her inside, tearing and shredding as he pounded relentlessly. Sara tried to scream, to tell him to stop, but his chest was flat against her face and she could neither move nor make anything but whimpering noises. The mountainous body lowered on her, inch by painful inch and she was squashed underneath a tremendous weight. Her bed groaned and collapsed underneath her and they fell down through the floor and down through another floor, until Sara was falling through space, screaming and bleeding and alone. She knew she was dying.

Sara awoke drenched in sweat, her arms and legs thrashing. Again she struggled to distract herself from the vivid sensations of that terrifying dream. Only work could push it back into the recesses of her mind, but it lurked there, she knew it and felt it.

The pattern continued. A long night of hard work would exhaust her, and she would sleep undisturbed. Then in the next sleep came a nightmare that drove her, shaking and terrified, from her bed.

Grissom lay on his side, watching her undress. He made no movement or sound, just waited for her to join him. When Sara was naked, his eyes grew larger and more intense, huge, until there was nothing else to see but his eyes. Their expression changed, became hard, became withering, and she shrank, literally, as his eyes bored into her. Sara begged him to stop, to speak, to tell her what was wrong, what was wrong with _her_. His eyes became angry, full of repulsion and her voice became a squeak. The bed towered over her and the carpet was like thick high grass.

Sara awoke, whimpering, in a fetal position.

**CHAPTER TWO: SUCCUBUS**

succubus: A demon in female form supposed to have sexual intercourse with sleeping men; a demon or evil spirit.

_Oxford Dictionary of Foreign Words and Phrases_

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Grissom didn't ordinarily pay much attention to dreams. At best, they gave him some new insight into a puzzling case or presented him with intoxicating visions of making love to Sara–-at worst, they were troublesome episodes he could banish easily. The most vivid of his dreams excited him to ejaculation in his sleep, which he still found vaguely embarrassing despite their regularity since adolescence. A hot shower and strong coffee took care of that.

So when his newest dream of Sara began, he welcomed it. He was in his dark office, the shades drawn, standing easily by the door, awaiting her. She let herself in, smiled at him, and turned and locked the door. Grissom took her warm soft hand and led her to the most secluded area, a row of stacks of specimen jars that led away from his desk. But the passageway between the racks continued, so they walked and walked, hand in hand, until they were outside, in white sunny daylight, striding through soft sand on a beach. The dunes were windswept and empty and the air was chilled. It looked and felt like Cape Cod. Sara shivered in the wind and Grissom draped his jacket around her shoulders and hugged her with his arm. Sara's gratitude and pleasure in his company shone from her eyes.

Grissom led her to a hollow in the sand, sheltered and secluded. They stripped off their clothes and laid them as a makeshift blanket in the sand. Sara lay down on her back and Grissom lowered himself slowly atop her. He kissed her deeply and their arousal quickly overtook them. He guided himself inside, as he seemed to have done many times before, but his pleasure soon turned to horror. Sara's body shattered with his every touch, and her pelvis splintered, then her legs and feet and torso. He grasped her hands but they fell to pieces in a rippling up her arms to her shoulders. Her mouth and head were last to break, so Sara's piercing cries of pain echoed in his head until there was nothing left of her, just pieces that looked like bone and wood, none bigger than a toothpick.

Grissom staggered to his feet, staring down at what was left. The sand shifted under him and he sank straight down. His feet were so heavy he could not move them, and something, or someone, pulled him down inexorably. Grissom sank as swiftly as if concrete blocks were tied to his legs and he had been thrown into deep water. Never had he felt so hopeless and helpless. The only consolation, he thought, as the sand clogged his mouth and nose, was that he would not have to live long with the guilt of having shattered his precious Sara as if she were spun glass, nor have to hear again and again her dying screams.

Grissom awoke to the sound of his own heartrending cries. His heart was pounding and his mouth was parched and his head and body ached. He stumbled from his bedroom and into a lengthy shower. Grissom tried to reason with himself, to pretend it didn't bother him, even to laugh at himself, but that made the bile rise in his throat. He drove himself mindlessly through his normal routine and dressed and left for work. He was hours and hours early, but no one noticed or commented on it. Grissom the workaholic was utterly normal.

The team noted that he was abstracted and kept himself to himself. Again, that was normal. He was just Grissom, and they had learned to adapt to his different moods.

Then there was a case of a husband whose wife had fallen out of love with him. She made him feel inadequate and stupid and useless, then tormented him by openly flirting with other men, wherever they happened to be together. When he caught her in bed with the tree trimmer guy, he smashed their heads in and tried to run away.

Grissom's dream after that was brutal. Sara was naked on the bed, her body illuminated, slender, and beautiful. He clumsily stripped off his clothes, and oddly he seemed to wearing thick layers of them. The more he undressed, the more Grissom became uncomfortable with the way Sara was looking at him. His body seemed heavy and lumpy and he swayed comically trying to remove his tight shoes. When his shirt was off he was ashamed of his obese stomach, short fat arms, and triple chin. His chest sagged and was wrinkled and the sparse hair on it was white. Sara laughed at him coldly. Her laugh became ruthless when Grissom pushed down his pants. His limp cock had shrunk to peanut size and he had to strain to see it over his grossly distended belly. He tried to cover himself but his hands were small, the skin on them papery and covered with liver spots. His legs were like sticks. Peals of scornful laughter came from the bed.

Hot rage bubbled up inside him. "Shut Up!" Grissom yelled at her. "Shut your fucking mouth!" Sara continued to laugh, pointing and making obscene comments. Grissom gritted his teeth and put his hands around her throat. Sara was still laughing when he strangled her.

Grissom jerked awake, too shocked to make a sound. He stared unblinking at the wall, until the patterns in the dark wood swirled into strange shapes. He made his way to the shower and turned the water on, then stopped to look at his naked body in the mirror. No, it was just as he remembered it, nothing to be ashamed of. _Would Sara think so?_

Grissom's next nightmare came to him on his night off, when he had too many hours to fill, without conversation or work to consume him.

He was happily lying back on his big soft bed, relishing the attentions of Sara atop him. She kissed and bit lightly and slathered over his body with her tongue, from his feet to his head as he squirmed with pleasure. Grissom's large cock grew heavy with blood and he shifted it to rest more comfortably as Sara nuzzled his neck and sucked on the soft flesh under his jaw, letting his beard rasp lightly against her face. He groaned and whispered endearments and guttural noises of appreciation.

Sara made her way down his naked chest and he watched, horrified, as her delicate features rapidly shifted into a gross distortion. Her long tapering chin became a muzzle, her white teeth sharpened and the gap between the two front ones became beaklike. Her hands instantly became claws. Sara's brown eyes turned yellow and fierce and she stared at him, unblinking, still retreating down his stomach. Her hair became fur and her ears retreated and rounded. She looked feral and wild and ravenous. Before Grissom could react or retreat, the creature took his hard cock in her mouth and bit it off. The agonizing pain he expected was nonexistent; there was just a weird aching emptiness. The monster chewed and swallowed his manhood, licking the blood from her vulpine nose, then dove down between Grissom's legs and bit off his balls. She swallowed those whole and he watched them descend down her long throat like a snake swallowing a rat.

Grissom awoke gasping and kicking and punching the air, desperate to get the beast off him. He frantically felt between his legs and laughed bitterly at himself when he found his genitals intact. His relief was quickly replaced by alarm. _Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

**CHAPTER THREE: A CONVERSATION**

Sara was nervous whenever Grissom was nearby. She couldn't seem to shake it. Sara flinched if he got too close and clearly fought the impulse to bolt from the room whenever he walked in. Grissom was jittery too. Fear seemed to waft from both of them. And these two people were normally, utterly, fearless.

The other team members were baffled. They had felt and experienced a wide range of emotions between Grissom and Sara, from thick hot sexual tension, to cold anger, to studied indifference, to easy camaraderie, to peaceful coexistence, to sizzling flirtation and mutual magnetic attraction. But nothing had _ever_ been like this. Sara's hands shook when she had to show him evidence and Grissom's eyes looked, frantically, everywhere but at her. His voice trembled when he had to speak to Sara.

Could they really be _afraid_ of one another? Sara was so kind and compassionate and forgiving. She could no more hurt Grissom than she could kick a stray kitten. And Grissom, though complicated and cerebral, was kindly and trustworthy and courteous. He was a gentleman and a gentle man. They cared for one another deeply, as good friends do, and showed it in ways both insignificant and obvious. Now they seemed adrift.

All of the others knew better than to try to talk to Grissom. He was so uncomfortable with conversations about emotions and his feelings that he would, instantly, shut down. Sara was emotionally complex, but at least she could sometimes open up, especially to close friends. Nick tried first but was thwarted at every concerned question with brusque repetitions of "I'm fine." Warrick tried, awkwardly, but made even less progress. Greg tried to cheer her up and kid her but was stopped short by the cold glare of Sara's eyes and her clipped requests to _leave her the hell alone_.

Catherine did the only thing she could think of. She dragged Sara out to a bar and challenged her to a drinking competition. Sara knew what Catherine was up to, but good stiff drinks took the edge off and she welcomed that. Sara was clearly trouncing Catherine, drink for drink, so Catherine conceded while still ordering refills for her friend.

"Talk to me, Sara. What's bothering you?"

"I can't explain it. You won't believe me."

"Sure you can. Try me."

"Well, I've been having these bizarre dreams." _Dreams? How can Sara be rattled by just dreams?_

"How bizarre?"

"Grissom...and I are getting...uh..."

"Intimate?"

"Yes. But every time he touches me, he hurts me, sometimes even kills me."

"Christ. That's just wrong. Grissom would _never _hurt you," Catherine said, aghast.

"I know that, at least when I'm awake. But asleep? The idea torments me. Each time, I welcome him, into my arms, into my bed, but he always destroys me. He doesn't hit me or anything like that. It's more like he consumes me, sucks the life out of me..." That brought back clearly the first troubling dream and Sara shivered and quickly downed her drink.

Catherine motioned to the bartender, then carefully asked, "What do you think this all means?"

"It means I'm fucked up."

"No, don't say that. You're intelligent and rational and an excellent scientist. I know it's hard, but try to think this out dispassionately," Catherine said, calmingly, for Sara's sake.

"I don't know. Dammit I don't know what it means." Sara took a shaky breath.

"When these dreams started, did anything happen between the two of you that may have triggered it?"

Sara thought hard for a few moments. "We were getting closer, and I thought he might finally be ready to give in to this attraction. He started to ask me out, but he hesitated."

"Did that frighten you?"

"Why should it? It's what I've always wanted. But..." Sara's eyes were thoughtful.

"But what?" Catherine prompted.

"But maybe, that _did_ frighten me. To give myself completely to him. Give up the control, and to be utterly vulnerable."

"We're getting somewhere," Catherine said, relieved. "Yes, that is a terrifying feeling, when you've always been so strong and independent. What else?"

"Maybe, I thought...I thought that I've built this thing up between us so much, idealized and idolized him for so long, that the reality would be...a tremendous letdown. A disaster," Sara said sadly.

"I doubt that. I really do," Catherine assured her. "It's only my female intuition, but you well know how accurate that can be. You two would be...fantastic. Incredibly happy."

"But what if we weren't? What if we hated each other?"

"Dear, you sound like Grissom, do you realize? You're overthinking, and imagining only the worst."

"Hey. You're right." Sara finally smiled a little. "Guess he's rubbing off on me."

"Listen," Catherine said encouragingly. "You two have incredible chemistry, like I've never seen before. You can read each other's minds sometimes, and finish sentences, and you work together like a well-oiled machine. You're very alike, and are already great friends. You have mutual respect and admiration. And he's handsome and you're beautiful, and you look great together...at least when you're getting along."

"Yeah," Sara laughed softly. "Thanks, Cath."

"Most of all, Grissom loves you. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he treats you and acts around you. He can be an oblivious dope sometimes, and take you for granted, but deep down he really loves you, more than anyone."

"And I love him. Exactly like that."

"Of course you do. Everyone else pales in comparison, right? There's only one Grissom, and to him, there's only one Sara," Catherine said, a little wistfully. _I wish I had a Grissom._

"You're right. You're right, Catherine. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now, you know what you have to do, right?"

"What?" Sara asked.

"Tell him exactly what you told me. Tell Grissom about the dreams, and how they made you feel, and how you _really_ feel."

Sara's eyes briefly widened with fear. "I don't...I can't..."

"Don't give me that. If you can tell me, you can damn sure tell him. Your biggest obstacle is that you don't _talk_ to each other!"

"That's true. We don't."

Catherine sighed with satisfaction. "Finally."

"What?"

"Finally I can talk some sense into one of you!"

Sara laughed, and Catherine joined in.

**CHAPTER FOUR: Another Day, Another Conversation**

Sara paced anxiously outside Grissom's office. The conversation with Catherine had settled her nerves temporarily, and strengthened her resolve, but that ebbed away when Grissom was only feet away, apparently deliberately ignoring her. She had no idea what to say, or how to start what was sure to be a painfully awkward conversation.

"Sara?" Grissom said irritably. "Are you coming in, or trying to drive me crazy?"

"Uh, sorry, Grissom." She stepped inside tentatively.

"Yes?" His blue eyes were stony.

"I need to talk to you, about something personal."

"Okay." His tone softened slightly. "Close the door and have a seat."

Sara obeyed. _Tell him, Sara, just tell him._

"I've been having these weird dreams."

Grissom's eyes widened in disbelief.

Sara looked at the floor, hoping against hope he wouldn't reject her or think she was an idiot. "They...they're about you, you and me...and they frighten me."

Grissom tilted his head encouragingly.

"This is hard. You're going to think I'm nuts, and I'm wondering if I am," Sara continued.

"Please go on," Grissom said politely. "I may understand better than you think."

"Really? Okay. Uh, you remember those drawings Adam Trent did, of the benign objects, trees or cats, that became dangerous and threatening?"

Grissom nodded. "I do remember those."

"These dreams are like those drawings. They start out innocently, pleasantly, and then they morph...and it's horrible. We're...uh...we're making..." Sara's voice trailed off.

"Making love?" His voice was steady, but his heart pounded in his ears. _I can't believe I just said that._

Sara looked startled, then relieved. "Yes, that, and then, you change. You hurt me, even though you never would, I know that, but you wound me, and sometimes, I, um, sometimes I...die."

Grissom released a breath. "Sara. I can't believe I'm telling you this...but I've been having the same kind of nightmares."

"You have??"

"Yes, this is so bizarre. We're um, together, and I'm trying to love...but I hurt you, and I can't stop as much as I want to. I can't stop destroying you. Or you hurt or destroy me."

Sara just looked at him, her eyes wide, holding her breath.

"In the last one, you turned into a...beast...and you...castrated me."

"Jesus, Gris. That's horrible."

He grimaced. "Yes! It was."

"What the hell is going on, Grissom? We're good people...I would _never_ hurt you."

"I believe you. I would never hurt you, Sara, never harm you in any way."

"I know that, I really do. So why are we hurting each other in our dreams?"

Grissom scrunched up his face and tried to think. "I can't speak for you, but I think it's rooted in my fear. The fear of taking the plunge. The fear of exposure, of letting another person see me, the _real_ me. Being vulnerable. Being out of control." He sighed deeply.

"I'm afraid too." Sara spoke so softly Grissom had to strain to hear her. "Everything you just said, it terrifies me too. It's like...I'm afraid you will consume me, own me, strip away my identity, until I'm just an appendage." Her voice grew a little stronger. "Or reject me and despise me. Or that this...pure love...will become... hate."

"I could never hate you, Sara," Grissom breathed. "Never. But I could let you down? Hurt you without wanting to, like I have before? Maybe I would disappoint you so much that you would leave me." He looked so sad.

"No, Gris. You could never disappoint me. I could never _imagine_ hating you. And I never want to leave you, especially when you're being so open. I care about you."

"God, I'm glad to hear that." Grissom smiled a little. "Thank you, Sara. I care about you too. I would never have had the courage to start this conversation."

Sara smiled back at him. "I know, it's not easy, when we're both so used to hiding inside ourselves, afraid of rejection if _they_ find out about the real us."

"Yes, you're right." He paused. "Sara, have you ever heard of incubi?"

"I'm not sure."

"An incubus is a demon, that torments and tortures you in your sleep and creates nightmares. This evil...thing...has sex with you. Incubi are male and torment women, sometimes impregnating them to create devils and so forth. Succubi are female and have intercourse with sleeping men."

"Wow. Sounds familiar." They chuckled ruefully.

Sara asked, "So you think we are being visited by these...things?"

"As a scientist I would of course say no. But as a man, struggling with some awful nightmares...I don't know."

"So what do we do? Call a priest? Have an exorcism?"

"No. No, if we concentrate on the truth, the scientific or perhaps psychological basis that might be creating these...episodes, maybe we can banish them."

"And if we continue being honest and open with each other? That should be cathartic as well."

"Yes, Sara. I'll try. Know that it is hard for me, okay?"

"I do know. I think we've made some progress today!" Sara said in a joking way, releasing some of the tension.

"Dr. Sidle, you've been a great help," Grissom smiled broadly. "But I think our hour is up."

"Good point, Dr. Grissom. I'd better go back to work."

"And I, as well."

Sara turned to go.

Grissom felt a rush of ease and peace. Their conversation had calmed his nerves to the point that he said, "Sara?"

"Yes?"

"Could we continue this?" Grissom asked. "Away from work, if you don't have any plans?"

"I'd like nothing better, Grissom." Sara smiled a wide genuine grin.

"Good. Breakfast then, after shift?"

"You bet. Ready when you are."

**CHAPTER FIVE: Breakfast**

By some unspoken agreement, Grissom and Sara had breakfast at a casino buffet, one not frequented by cops or CSIs. They piled their plates and ate heartily, both commenting that they hadn't been able to eat much since their nightmares began.

"I'm glad I'm not so...afraid of you anymore," Sara said shyly.

"Yes. That was awful. I've never felt that way around you before."

"Yeah."

Sara began the deeper discussion hesitantly. "Okay. We've established that we have certain deep fears in common. You mentioned a psychological reason, so let's explore that."

"Good idea," Grissom said.

"Grissom, uh, when was the last time you had sex?"

Grissom reacted but did not respond.

"I know you are a very private person. But I think this is relevant."

"Okay. Um, you know I spent the night with Heather. We were...intimate, but we didn't have sex. Actually we spent most of the time talking about you! She reads me, in a way that makes me uncomfortable, but it forces me to confront myself. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and feeling guilty for even being there."

"Thanks for telling me," Sara said with relief. "I know you stayed with Heather as a friend."

"I did," Grissom said, happy that she believed him.

"And before that?" Sara asked.

"I had a few...casual relationships before you came to Vegas. They didn't mean anything to either one of us; it was just sex, just a release."

"So my arrival had something to do with this...self-imposed celibacy?"

"Yes. _Yes_ it did." Grissom smiled a bit. "What about you?"

"I've been the same. I had a boyfriend in San Francisco, but I think we both knew it wouldn't last."

"What about Hank?"

"I told you," Sara said with a little heat. "Hank and I just went on dates. Dinners, to the movies, that kind of thing. I think I just needed to feel wanted, desired. We fooled around some, and he wanted more...but I didn't. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I think I just wanted to get back at you."

"So. It worked, at least at the time. I was jealous," Grissom admitted.

"Yeah, I know. I was jealous of Teri Miller, and Sofia."

"I took Teri to dinner, but she left when I got a call to work. And Sofia, yes, I took her to dinner too, but that was just to ask her to stay on as a CSI."

"Didn't they think it was something more?"

"Yes, they did," Grissom said. "Sofia...propositioned me, but I turned her down cold. I knew we flirted, but it took me aback that she did that. With Teri, it was a mutual attraction between colleagues. But it hurt that she just sneaked away when my back was turned. You would never do that."

"No, I sure wouldn't." Sara smiled at him. "I would have gone with you to the scene."

"Exactly. You get it. The hours, the shifts, the having to leave on a moment's notice..."

"That's why it's so hard to date, with this job. Only people who live like this understand, and we only spend time with the ones that do," Sara responded.

"Right."

"So, we've been living like...monks for more than six years. I don't know about you, but I'm a passionate person, and not just about work."

"I know."

"And this is the longest I've ever gone...without."

"Yes, that's true for me as well. But I've never had a really good, satisfying, committed relationship."

"I haven't either, now that I look back on it. So we're both very frustrated individuals."

"Extremely," Grissom smiled with his eyes.

Sara smiled back. "Especially when there's this powerful attraction between us, and we see each other every day! It's like the engine's always running, but neither of us can get it into gear."

Grissom chuckled warmly. "Well put."

"So why don't we?"

"Why don't we...?" Grissom asked cautiously.

"Go a little further. Welcome this, instead of being so afraid of what _might_ happen."

"Why don't we," Grissom agreed. "We can't go back."

"No, we can't," Sara said. "And where we are now, it's not healthy."

"No, it sure isn't. Baby steps?"

Sara grinned. "Baby steps. I'd like that."

"Okay," Grissom said. "In one of my nightmares, I took your hand, and it shattered in a million pieces." He looked troubled as he remembered.

Sara instantly offered him her hand. He took it and looked at their joined hands.

"See? I don't break."

"No. You don't." He squeezed a little more. "This feels nice."

"It does. Let's go for a walk," Sara said encouragingly.

"Let's."

They strolled out holding hands.

The sweet dreams were just beginning.

**THE END**

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